Silk covered Dagger
by ClubhouseFire
Summary: There are many roads in life, all of them difficult, but none more hard than a road that hasn't been traveled before. In a world where information is no longer sacred and any means necessary will be used to obtain it, only the skilled can survive.


**I** actually had no idea that even had a D&D section for stories and I'm absolutely thrilled! Anyways this is just a prolouge to set up the rest of the story and probably isn't even needed, but I enjoy developing character relationships and this was to nice an opportunity to pass up.

So I hope you enjoy, (and you can let me know what you think by hitting that lovely little review button!) happy reading!

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_**T**_**ragedy –**

**I can only admit to having experienced this once in my life and it affected me in what I can only assume is a very odd way. Because of my profession I have witnessed many go through situations of disaster and tragedy, very few times have they resulted in a case like mine.**

**I have found that watching others endure the pain is much harder than living it myself, but I was very young and it can be discounted in the sense that perhaps I just didn't understand the gravity of what had happened.**

**People express so much through their eyes; I can almost believe that the pupils are indeed a window to the soul. The eyes are where you can see happiness, anger, disbelief, lies and, love. It's where you can truly view someone's heart breaking and watch the life flee from their bodies. That's what is the hardest about tragedy. It's not the event itself, no, but the agony you see in the eyes of the eyes of the victim.**

**I often find myself wondering if I once wore that twisted look of pain… but I think it's not a question I want answered. Still, my mind is always quick to ask why people even allow themselves to suffer such a misery; there are measures that can be taken against it. I know, though, that this is impossible, something inside us wants to feel that burning despair, the hatred, the grief and, guilt that comes with tragedy. It's what makes joy feel so good.**

**Despite all of my ponderings on the topic I must admit that tragedy is something I, (and many others like me,) can exploit. There is nothing more vulnerable than a king who has lost his queen, a town that has been decimated, a noble whose money has vanished or a family whose father falls ill. So much can be gained from this that it would be idiotic not to use it to ones advantage.**

**And even knowing that I once felt as they do, I believe it's what makes me so strong, better at what I have been raised to do. I did love my life before my tragedy but I don't hate my life after either. Instead I find satisfaction in knowing that I am more than a 'simple gypsy' and have made a difference (good or bad) in this world. It is with that ability that I took my first tentative steps into a world so foreign and strange that I should have been eliminated.**

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The sun had begun to dip below the tree line, filling the sky with a brilliant mural of deep reds, shocking oranges and the beginnings of night. Yet the bard caravan had not quieted, music seeped through the covered wagons and gypsies danced along the road singing and laughing. Driving one of these caravans was a tall human man whose dark blond hair was in need of trimming yet his hazel eyes still showed through as he looked upon his daughter.

The child was very small for her age, something that had much to do with her fey heritage, and even in her young years was very beautiful. Something the man was very proud of. Her hair was auburn red and tied back from her pale face in a long plait. Her face was still round with childhood but her wide green eyes seemed more knowledgeable than they should have.

At the moment the young girl was focused intently on her lyre, the second instrument she was attempting to master after having succeeded with the flute. "No Karyssa, not like that." The man spoke with a smile as he reached to adjust her fingering. "You'll cause the length of your fingers to callous that way." Karyssa nodded and smiled when she found her fathers way much easier.

"I think I can play now." She spoke proudly and began to pluck the chords of the song the gypsies voices were raised in. Her father wasted no time in joining her with his lute and singing along, his eyes brimming with pride.

When the song ended another began but Karyssa didn't continue. "Excellent!" Her father exclaimed with a few loud claps. "You'll make a wonderful musician."

"And when I am," The child began, looking up at her father. "Can we buy a house in a city? Can we live like a family with aunt Pascell?"

"Ah," The sandy haired man let out a sigh and rubbed his scruffy chin as if in contemplation. "We shall see. There is much time before you are ready for that." Karyssa jutted out her bottom lip in a pout but she wasn't really sad. She knew of her father's wanderlust, but aunt Pascell had always warned of danger and it frightened the small girl. It was her belief a home in the city would be safest for them.

"Erik!" A woman's voice rang out from within the wagon. "Let the girl come inside for her supper." Karyssa knew this to be aunt Pascell and she knew also that her father would not ignore his sister's wishes. "In you go." He said turning to help her into the caravan.

The inside of the covered wagon was bright as Javen, a friend of Karyssa's father, had lit a sun stick. Yet his mouth was already full of stew and in such a state he would not be a good companion for conversation. Setting her lyre down onto pile of bags Karyssa walked to her aunt to take her share of the night's food.

Over the steam of her supper Karyssa regarded her aunt. She wasn't old but her face was lined and her gaze troubled. Aunt Pascell, according to the child's father, had seen many hard times and was the worse because of it. But Karyssa loved her a great deal and smiled as she looked at the woman wrapped in shawls whose hair was braided like hers.

"Eat up now," She said returning the young girls smile, albeit not as wide or as readily. "You won't like it when it gets cold." Karyssa heeded her aunt's advice and began to spoon the still warm meal into her mouth. "She won't," Javen spoke up through a mouthful of food and after swallowing continued, "but I will." Karyssa looked back to him and he winked.

Ever since she had known Javen he remained the same, fun and easygoing. He always had a treat for her when he came back from the city, and it was always something different. Now though, Karyssa didn't have to see her aunt to know the glare poor Javen was receiving. With a giggle the child went back to her meal and her aunt seemed to relax in knowing her niece was happy.

"Just think Karyssa," Javen said moving to sit beside the girl, his black hair flopping over one of his ever bright blue eyes. "In just a few years you'll be playing your music and singing right besides us!"

"Don't say that with such happiness Javen!" Aunt Pascell scolded with vehemence. "Well, why not? It is true isn't it?"

"Of course it is." Aunt Pascell admitted, but her hard hazel gaze softened. "But a child like Karyssa deserves more than the life of a simple gypsy."

"You think that because she is beautiful and talented she should be a noble? It is not the life for her! Adventure and excitement is in her blood! Don't you see it in her eyes when we visit a new city or travel a new road? She's got as much of her fathers wanderlust as her mothers desire to be surrounded by nature!"

"Shh!" Aunt Pascell hushed him loudly. "We will continue this discussion later, Javen. I don't like speaking of her as if she wasn't here."

The wagon grew quiet the only noises where the grind of the wagon wheels on the dirt road and the scraping of Karyssa's spoon against her bowl. "Why don't you take over for Erik so he can come have his supper?" Aunt Pascell broke the heavy silence, Javen didn't respond but pushed through the front of the tent-like cover and Karyssa's father soon replaced his presence.

He wasted no time in grabbing a bowl full of the hot stew, that aunt Pascell had heated. "We set up camp in an hour, and we should reach Greyhawk sometime in the afternoon tomorrow."

"Greyhawk?" Karyssa asked handing her empty bowl to her aunt. "Yes, it's a huge city with many taverns. I expect we'll be there a week or so before the caravan sets out again." He explained between bites, Karyssa smiled, although she was not generally allowed into the taverns she did enjoy going to new cities. There was always so much to see and learn.

"When will I be old enough to come and play with you in the taverns father?" Karyssa asked determinedly not meeting her aunt's eyes. "I don't know." He replied honestly. "I don't think it has much to do with your age, just your size. I would be worried if I took you into a place like that. When you get bigger it will be okay." Karyssa nodded but couldn't help wondering how long it would take for her to get big enough.

The grind of the carriage wheels slowed to a halt and Javen came through the opening. "We're stopping a bit early; Kerrian says we won't have anywhere to stop for miles after this." Karyssa's father stood and collected the bedrolls he could while aunt Pascell grabbed the last one.

"Come on little one." Javen said sitting on his knees in a nightly ritual, without being told Karyssa clambered up onto his shoulder and Javen slipped out the back of the tent. Laughing Karyssa grabbed two fistfuls of his jet black hair to keep herself steadied as they approached the newly set up campsite.

Five fires had already been erected and from her vantage point Karyssa could easily see everyone setting up their bedrolls but she knew only the younger members of the caravan would be bedding down at this time. Finally her father and aunt Pascell arrived with the bedrolls and set them up.

Reaching up Karyssa's father pulled her from Javen's shoulders. "I'm not tired." She stated as he set her down on the ground. "Of course you aren't." He smiled waving away his sister and friend. "But you will be soon and we have a big day tomorrow. It's best you rest now." He told her untying her hair and running his fingers through it to undo the braid.

When Karyssa was settled into the warmth of the blanket her father began to sing the lullaby he sang to her every night, his voice quiet and gentle.

"_Golden slumber kiss your eyes,  
Smiles await you when you rise.  
Sleep,  
pretty baby,  
Do not cry,  
And I'll sing you a lullaby.  
Care you know not,  
Therefore sleep,  
While I o'er you watch do keep.  
Sleep,  
pretty darling,  
Do not cry,  
And I will sing a lullaby."_

As he finished Karyssa's eyes grew heavy and she smiled sleepily up at him. "See, I'm not tired at all." She insisted through a yawn. "Of course not." Her father smiled and leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead. Through her closing lids Karyssa only vaguely saw her father moving away to the fire where her aunt and Javen were sitting.

Karyssa awoke that night to something unfamiliar to her, shouts and screaming filled the dark night air. Sitting up her eyes met what could only have been a horrible, horrible dream.

Huge dog-like humanoids, which she knew to be gnolls, were ravaging the camp. Their hulking bodies were covered in coarse dark fur, and large yellowed teeth showed in their open mouths dripping with saliva and some other dark liquid. Some of them carried spears and crude swords but others brandished their long claws. Through the commotion Karyssa couldn't count how many there were but they certainly outnumbered those who traveled in the caravan.

With wide eyes Karyssa saw a gypsy flee into the dark forest and then she watched a gnoll take his huge clawed hand and swipe at a woman stumbling from her bed. His hand connected. Through all the nose and commotion Karyssa heard the grotesque crunching noise as if it was beside her. She saw the woman's face seize up in a horrifying expression and then, what paralyzed the young girl to the spot, the woman's head ripped from her neck. Blood spurted and bubbled up from where the tissue was once connected, and Karyssa saw the head land with a wet splat on the ground and roll twice before coming to a stop, face up, staring blankly into the sky.

Karyssa's heart whapped painfully against her ribcage while the scene around her seemed to slow down. She wanted to throw up, to run away, to hide or wake up, anything to escape the nightmare before her.

Her speeding mind barely realized she couldn't see her father or aunt but as her eyes scoured the ground she did see Javen. For a moment Karyssa couldn't understand why he was lying there in a pool of dark liquid, surely he was asleep and she had to wake him to help her father and aunt. Without a second thought she rushed to him, his body was cold as her tiny hands shook him.

"Javen!" She cried in a strangled mix of frustration, fear and anger. "Javen wake up! Wake up! Wake up Javen, you Have to help!" She rolled him over with a great effort, sobs racked her small body as reality set in. Javen was not asleep. The dark liquid that he was laying in was blood.

Throwing herself on him Karyssa tried to convince herself that if she warmed him up he would come back. "Javen! Javen wake up! Please wake up! We need you Javen." She could feel his blood seeping through her dress and she pressed herself against him harder trying to push the blood back into him, hoping his heart would start again and his eyes would regain their twinkle.

Through her tears she looked into his eyes. They were cold, empty and it scared her. Were these not the eyes the winked at her when she got into trouble? Were they not the eyes that could smile when his face was stern? Why were they so blank and dull now? With a fresh bout of hot tears Karyssa reached up and closed his eyes, she didn't want to look at them and it filled her with guilt. Nothing existed in the world but herself and Javen, she needed him to come back. "Please.." She sobbed. "Please… I promise I'll be good! I won't tease the other kids anymore and I promise to practice my music when father asks, just wake up Javen!" She begged and pleaded to his cold body.

Suddenly something gripped her arm, wrenching her away from Javen's body. "No!" She shrieked as loud as she could. "Karyssa!" The voice seemed far away but the child knew it was her father. She turned and clasped to him, but she could not ignore the look on his face. His eyes were so pained, full of fear and confusion.

"I need you to run." He begged dropping to her level and placing a hand against her face, It was now that she noticed he was injured, his right arm hung limply at his side in an odd position. "Father, Javen is hurt! Javen! I want him to help, he won't help!" Her father's eyes filled with tears and this was not something Karyssa had seen before. "Please run Karyssa. Run and hide in the forest and I promise that when this is over I'll buy a house in the city and we'll live there. I promise." His voice cracked as he shoved the small girl towards the trees to help get her feet in motion.

Karyssa ran but it felt as though she was moving at half speed her eyes squeezed shut because she scared of what she would see if they were open. When she reached the edge she dived into a bush and lay down, from her hiding spot she saw her father now struggling with a gnoll. With his right arm useless he tried to fight it back with his left hand. But he did not succeed. The gnoll rusty sword appeared through her father's back.

With surprising speed inky blackness began to cover the child's vision and her head felt light. In a few short moments she knew nothing but darkness and the fact that she would never get her house.

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**T**his is the beginning of what I hope to be a novel of sorts and I don't think I revealed any future plot in this chapter, _I'd love_ to hear your guesses though! So drop me a line. Reviews mean I'll update faster, promise!

oxoxo Discofever


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